Miracle at 221B, A Huddy Christmas Story
by Muna16
Summary: It is the holiday season and House has been back from Mayfield for several months. Things remain a bit awkward between House and Cuddy, but the holiday season is bringing out the Huddyness.
1. Chapter 1

**Miracle at 221B, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part 1**

Lisa Cuddy sat at her desk, reviewing the last of the budget reports she would be presenting to the board next week. She was distracted by the view from the windows behind her. Every few minutes she would pause, look up from her papers and stare off into the snowy campus that surrounds PPTH. The snow had been falling steadily all day.

The dreariness she saw every time she looked outside reminded her of the evening of Rachel's naming ceremony. She tried to keep her focus on the report in front of her. Once she reviewed and signed off on it she would be free to go home at last, and maybe make it without overtime for her nanny. These had been a rough few months for her at work, and she was glad the holidays were approaching. Rachel was taking her first steps, and she would be ready to enjoy this Hanukah and Christmas. Cuddy was even thinking about taking a few days off to visit her family with Rachel. She couldn't wait for the holidays.

She wanted so much to get into the holiday spirit this year. Last year's holidays had been filled with the drama of the adoption. The Tritter mess had left its mark on her holidays a few years before, when House had nearly killed himself with Vicodin and bourbon. She needed a good Christmas this year, a good Hanukah - and she was determined to get it.

Cuddy even wanted the holidays to be a special time at the hospital this year. With the recent losses of Amber and Kutner, and the changes in diagnostics, well, morale had been down. This building, these people - the clerical staff, the custodial staff, the nurses and doctors and lab technicians - they needed this holiday season to be filled with joy and happiness as much as she did. That's why she had planned the first ever "across the hospital" gift exchange.

She had the tech guys develop a program that would match up hospital personnel for a gift exchange. All 2,343 employees would be participating, and everyone would learn who they would be Santa for tomorrow. Wilson had suggested that a picture of the employee be included with the name since so many people didn't know each other. She thought he had a point, and that it was a shame that they all didn't know each other. This place had been her home, and these people her family, for many years now. She suddenly couldn't wait to get to work tomorrow, knowing the holiday season would officially begin at the hospital.

She finished the reviewing the report and fired off an e-mail to her department heads indicating their budgets had met with her approval and would be brought to the board next week. She scheduled a meeting for Cameron since she did have a few concerns regarding the ER's reports and then she carefully put all of the files away, stood up and stretched, and walked over to the windows.

The snow kept coming down. She thought about the night of the naming ceremony. She was standing in the lobby with House, ready to head out into the stormy night. She had wanted very badly to ask him to come to the ceremony. Truth be told, she wanted to beg him to come. He was her dearest and oldest friend.

For Cuddy, that was just one of a number of regrets she harbored regarding her interactions with House this past year. She wondered where their relationship would be right now if she had asked him to come, if she had stopped acting like a child for once and not allowed her pride to rule her heart. She sighed heavily and shook those thoughts from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it now. He was back from Mayfield and their friendship, at least, was back to normal. She methodically put on her jacket and grabbed her coat and purse, ready to head back home for the evening, thinking she was at least happy to still have him as a part of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Miracle at 221B****, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part Two**

Up on the third floor, Greg House had been bouncing his oversized tennis ball for the better part of the last hour. He wasn't working on a puzzle, at least not on a medical puzzle. Well, technically he couldn't practice yet, as the hearing regarding the reinstatement of his license wasn't scheduled until next week. No, he was working on a different muzzle right now, and the pieces just didn't fit. So he bounced the ball.

He had been back from Mayfield for almost three months. He was trying very hard to do what was expected of him in order to get his license and job back. He couldn't see patients, but he did consult with the team when they needed his opinions. This happened so often he barely missed his job. He almost liked the gig since he didn't have to worry about the paperwork, not that he ever completed it anyway.

Then there was the additional work - he was teaching a diagnostics class, and writing up his latest cases for the journals. He knew that Cuddy had concocted this consulting job for him the same way she had built the diagnostics department for him - in order to save him from himself. He just didn't know why she wanted to save him. And he desperately needed to know why. That was the puzzle he needed to solve before he could make any kind of real step towards her.

He knew Cuddy had been with him through his most difficult moments in the past few years. She was there after he was shot, she was there when Wilson left and he was recovering from the DBS, and she was there when he needed her most, six months ago, getting him to Wilson and Mayfield before he completely lost his mind. He knew he could always count on her strength and on her loyalty - he could still close his eyes and see her on the stand during the Tritter trial. She is an amazing woman. _Damnit, _he thought_, how did I allow us to miss so many opportunities in the past year?_

He put the ball back on his desk and picked up his notes again. He was pulling together the notes from Scott Plummer's file in order to write up the details of Scott's corpus callosum cut, the alien hand syndrome, and his reaction to the deodorant. This had been his last case, the team's last case actually, before his admission to Mayfield, and it had been an interesting one. He felt the need to document the quality of life issues associated with the corpus callosum cut, since it was becoming more and more prevalent in the treatment of epilepsy.

All of the studies on it detailed the medical success of the procedure, and none of them so far had considered the quality of life issues beyond the purely anecdotal. He had an opportunity here, with this paper, to push science to a higher limit, to push science to improve this procedure because its outcome was not satisfactory, at least not yet.

He fumbled with the chart, and then he put it away to work on tomorrow. He just couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept turning to the snow falling outside. The late afternoon reminded him of Cuddy's kid's naming ceremony. _Why didn't I just tell her I wanted to be there_, he thought. _Better yet, why couldn't I be the ass I always am and just showed up anyway?_ He remembered the moment in the lobby, before they both went into the night in separate directions, that moment when he could tell Cuddy was about to ask him. He had been relieved that she didn't, because he was an idiot afraid to screw things up. Later, in his apartment, as he sat at the piano, he had never felt more miserable or lonely.

Outside, the snow kept coming down at a steady pace, and remembering he had brought his bike to work this morning, not realizing this kind of weather was headed his way, he thought he would check in on Wilson and bum a ride home. Wilson was at his desk taking notes in a patient chart when House barged in, startling him for the fourth time today.

"Are you going for a record, House? I know you don't believe in knocking, but can I interest you in opening the door a bit more slowly so I don't jump halfway out of the earth's atmosphere every time you enter my office?"

House threw himself onto Wilson's couch. "Calm down, Jimbo, I knew I had that effect on the ladies, but I didn't know you went that way. It explains a lot, actually," House added, his tone playful.

Wilson was tired and he had also been watching the snow fall, concerned about his own ride home. "What do you want, House?"

"I need you to take me home - I brought my bike - and in the interest of actually living long enough to practice medicine again - I thought I could bum a ride."

"Of course I can give you a ride, House, but I might recommend this channel on your tv - it's an interesting concept - The Weather Channel - you can check it in the morning to see the forecast and determine if you should ride your bike or bring your car."

"The Weather Channel? Never heard of it. I never make it up past the porn channels." House enjoyed the banter with Wilson, but he couldn't let him get away without a dose of House reality. "And by the way, my leg is usually a pretty good prognosticator, but it hasn't been too consistent lately since it hurts all the time," he said as he rubbed it furiously.

Wilson felt bad for House. Obviously the new pain management program wasn't working as well as the Vicodin did. He was struggling. He started to pack his briefcase. "If you're ready," Wilson started, and House was up and had his backpack slung over his shoulder before Wilson could finish the sentence.

As they waited for the elevator they watched as the holiday decorations started going up at the nurse's station. The flurry of activity brought a smile to Wilson's face, and an annoyed, frustrated look to House's. "Don't tell you are going to break out the moose antlers again," House snarled.

"They are reindeer antlers, and yes, I think I will. We exchange names for Cuddy's hospital-wide exchange tomorrow," Wilson reminded him.

"I can't believe you didn't try to talk her out of it," House started. "She listens to you. It will be a disaster."

Wilson shrugged as they entered the elevator. "You know, House, you really pulled a number on your team a couple of years ago - maybe you can walk away from this with over 2,000 Christmas gifts."

House chuckled at Wilson's recollection, and instinctively rubbed Kutner's watch, still on his left wrist. House looked a bit contemplative, and Wilson was worried the holidays would be tough for him. The elevator opened and they met Cuddy who was also on her way out as they made their way around the reception desk.

As luck would have it, the three of them stopped to bundle up right by the main entrance, in a scene eerily similar to the one both House and Cuddy had been thinking about earlier.

"How's the article on the corpus callosum cut going?" she asked.

House couldn't figure out how she always knew exactly what he was working on. More to the point, he didn't know why she cared so much. Is it because she wanted the article published, bringing prestige to the hospital? It is because she wanted to know if he had spent the day watching soap operas instead? Is it because she cared about him?

"Almost done," he answered quietly, getting his gloves on. "How about you," he asked, in a somber tone, "anybody need a new parking space today?"

She sighed, and being the first one finished, opened the door to head out into the night. She turned back quickly and offered, "Goodbye boys."

In so many ways things were back to normal for them, but in so many ways things were still ridiculously awkward. But at least they were trying. He and Wilson headed out a minute later, and when they reached Wilson's car, House stopped at the passenger's side before getting in.

"It's unlocked," Wilson said as he entered the driver's side. House hesitated.

Wilson leaned over and opened the door from the inside. "What, are you trying to freeze to death?" Wilson blurted. But he noticed, when House finally came in and tossed the cane in and the backpack into the back seat, that his face revealed anything but a deathwish. House looked like a man with a plan.

"Wilson, you rock. You have no idea how much you rock. This Secret Santa thing - it is going to be so radically awesome."

"House," Wilson said, alarmed, I wasn't serious about the 2,000 presents, you can't pull that off. You can't possibly think-"

House raised his left hand to shut Wilson up. "No Wilson, not 2,000 presents, just one. I am going to rig it so that Cuddy and I are each other's Secret Santa. This will fix everything. It's going to be the merriest freaking Christmas ever."


	3. Chapter 3

**Miracle at 221B****, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part Three**

House had expected it to be easier to bribe the IT guy into making him and Cuddy Secret Santas to each other in the hospital-wide gift exchange. As it turned out, Cuddy had given the IT guy a list of considerations and made him sign his name on a contract that said the names would be assigned randomly by the computer and that he would keep a private record of the matches to be seen by no one. The simple $20 House wanted to hand the kid was not enough to get him to turn against the big boss. It would take more, much more, but House was just the guy to solve the problem.

After a quick visit to the locker-room, House was back at the MIS department with a nondescript brown paper bag. He knew Kutner loved Christmas, and he thought that Kutner might be happy to be playing a role in the Secret Santa this year - the kid really seemed to like this crap. House even thought that Kutner would be especially pleased to be playing a role in Operation Woo Partypants, House's new codeword for the holiday gift exchange.

The kid from IT's eyes grew so large when he looked in the bag that House thought they might pop out of his head. "A Klingon dictionary from the original series? Do you know how much this is worth? And this phaser, Jesus, it's a prop from the original too."

House was afraid the kid would have a heart attack, and then he would really have a lot of explaining to do. "Dr. House - don't worry - I'll make the arrangements. I'll take care of it - not a problem."

House felt guilty as he limped back towards the elevators. He had given away two of Kutner's most prized possessions - the third House kept for himself - The Ferengi Cookbook. Something about it told House he could use it someday. All for this far-fetched idea that being Cuddy's Secret Santa would somehow let him get close enough to actually confront her about his feelings.

Something about the holidays was getting to him - and he felt the need to chase her, to chase her hard, and to get her, this time for good. _What the hell is happening to me_, he thought, as he met Wilson downstairs in the cafeteria for lunch.

Wilson was heading towards a table with his tray when House limped up beside him and grabbed a French fry. They sat. "I'm almost afraid to ask about the gift exchange," Wilson began.

"No you're not, you just did."

"Well, were you able to rig-"

"Are you doubting the master?"

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, Wilson. I don't have the slightest idea. But I hope it comes to me soon, because I am getting the feeling that this may be my last chance."

"What do you mean last chance? You guys have been dancing around each other for over 20 years. Why would this Christmas, now, be your last chance?"

House thought about it as he stared at the French fry he had just picked off of Wilson's tray. He popped it in his mouth and said, "I just get the feeling she is tired of waiting and ready to move on."

They sat in silence for a few moments, then House added, "Do you have any ideas? You are always falling all over yourself giving me advice. What do you think? What should I get her?"

Wilson shrugged his shoulders. "House, the last few times I gave you advice about Cuddy, well, things didn't go so well."

"The last time I got fired."

"Right."

Wilson continued. "I don't know how to say this, especially now, after everything you've been through in the past six months. I mean - you are my best friend, she is arguably my only other friend in the world. But you are both screwed up, beyond repair, most likely, and really, I don't think secretly stuffing a pair of edible peppermint thongs in her desk drawer will make much difference."

House looked up directly at Wilson and met his gaze. Wilson saw his friend's face go from hopeful, to worried, to resigned and now, well, he just looked a bit lost. House frowned - it wasn't a sad frown, though, it was more of a thinking frown. And then suddenly, as the idea of the peppermint thong continued to float in his brain, House knew what he had to do. His demeanor changed completely. Wilson noted House looked like he did when he had an epiphany when stuck on a patient's ddx.

"Wilson, you are a genius. Operation Woo Partypants is officially underway."

Wilson was startled by House's quick movement, as House was limping off away from the cafeteria before he had a chance to explain he didn't mean he should get Cuddy a thong for her gift in the exchange. _He is going to fall flat on his face_, Wilson thought. _This Christmas is going to suck._


	4. Chapter 4

**Miracle at 221B****, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part Four**

It was 3 p.m. the following day when the e-mails when out from IT regarding the gift exchange. Every employee received an individual e-mail including the name and picture of the person they would be shopping for. When Cuddy finally made it back to her office after her afternoon meetings she saw there was still a buzz of excitement in the air as the nurses talked to each other over the computer screens, trying to figure out who they had been paired with in the exchange. She knew this would be a good idea. The effect of the gift exchange on hospital morale was palpable, and the actual exchange wouldn't take place for another seven days.

Cuddy picked up her messages from the outer office and headed straight for her own computer to see who she had drawn in the exchange. Within a couple of minutes, she had logged on and clicked on the e-mail from IT. She immediately felt her blood rush to her head. She was livid.

_How in the hell did __House manage this one? Why?_ The long nose and the big forehead of the kid from IT that she had put in charge of the logistics for the exchange program came to mind. She thought about having him work on an algorithm to determine what the chances were that she would match up with House in a hospital employing more than 2,000 people. But as her blood pressure rose, another thought came to mind. She turned from the arrogant look of House's mug shot on her computer screen to the smooth mahogany top of her desk and she caressed it softly. _What if House rigged this because he is looking for a way to talk to me about his feelings? What if House is ready for the next step?_

There was only one thing to do, and the administrative staff moved out of her way in the outer office as she clicked her heels, charging her way on to Wilson's office. She barged in without knocking, making Wilson jump in his chair yet again.

"What is it with the two of you - do the rules of office etiquette not apply to the great Dr. Lisa Cuddy and the renowned Dr. Gregory House?"

"Oh, sorry," Cuddy stammered. "I was in such a rush I-"

"What is it, Cuddy?"

"I know you're his best friend, James, but you're my friend too. I just need you to tell me if he's screwing with me. After living without him those months he was at Mayfield, I am just happy to have him back - happy to be friends again. I am at the point where believing that is all we can be might just be alright with me - but then he does this with the gift exchange. I need to know, you have to tell me - is he screwing with me?"

The words had come falling out of her mouth, one after the other. She finally stopped to take a breath and looked at Wilson intently.

He exhaled slowly, put his pen down, stood up and walked around his desk so he was facing her directly. "He is not screwing with you."

Cuddy's nervous look turned into one of great resolve. She could not suppress her smile.

"Thank you," she said quickly, as she turned towards his door.

"Cuddy, that doesn't mean he won't find a way to screw this up. Actually, I am pretty sure he will. But at least he is trying to do something for you."

"That's all I needed to know, James."

As Cuddy walked out of Wilson's office and back towards the elevators, she couldn't help but think about her desk, and now this rig with the gift exchange. House was an ass, and most of the time he acted like a 12-year-old, but she was starting to think that he was the most romantic man she had ever known.

For the next couple of days, Cuddy came in to her office carefully, looking for surprises at every turn. She checked her drawers and her files meticulously, searching for the beginning of House's assault on the holidays. She expected him to harass her with practical jokes, the way he always did, and she was anxiously awaiting the first one in order to determine the tone of her response to him. She waited and anxiously expected something to happen. But nothing did.

Several days went by, and while she could see that some of the staff was receiving candy canes or chocolates from their Secret Santas, she had nothing from House. She was at the nurse's station late in the week when she heard Nurse Brenda ask another nurse if she had noticed that Dr. House had been on time to work every day this week. _Now that's peculiar_, Cuddy thought.

Later that day, one of the teaching assistants from the medical school stopped by to see her. She was expecting him to log a complaint about House, since that was usually the reason she received visits from teaching assistants. This time, though, the TA wanted her to know that House had been on time to all of the lectures over the past few days, that he had delivered the lectures himself, and that he had stayed after class to answer questions from the med students_. He's on time and he's doing his job_, Cuddy thought, as a cautious smile started to form on her lips.

The next day, House met Wilson for lunch at the cafeteria. They were making plans to go to a monster truck show over the weekend when they finally hit the registers. As House started to tell the cashier that Wilson would pay for him she said, "Oh, don't worry Dr. House, your Secret Santa has taken care of your tab until the exchange day.'

House arched his eyebrows, happy to see that Cuddy had made a move. This meant she had noticed he was on time and working hard over the past few days. While Wilson thought he was going to bombard her with edible underwear, he had decided instead to offer her gestures - gestures to show that he could be dependable and reliable, that he could be "safe."

Of course, he would never change for her, and he knew that she knew that, but he needed her to see that he was much more than an ass. He needed her to believe he was a cheerleader in college. It had hurt him when Lucas said she hadn't bought the story. He needed to know if she could - that would he the only way things could work between them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Wilson, "Buying you lunch, that is really more of a gift for me than for you, if you think about it."

"It's the thought that counts, Jimmy."

Later that day House was working on the article again. He had Scott's file strewn all over the conference room table. Diagnostics currently had no patient, so the team was downstairs working on the clinic. House had the office to himself. He had pulled all of the research on the corpus callosum cut and had been studying the procedure carefully over the past several nights. He had taken some footage of various surgeries and studied those as well. He called Foreman for a neurological consult, as he thought he was on the verge of a discovery regarding the procedure.

After House showed Foreman all of the steno pads filled with notes regarding Scott's case and the actual procedure, he couldn't help but be excited since House wasn't just on the verge of a breakthrough, he seemed to have actually made a breakthrough. Foreman thought that House had identified the actual cut in the surgery that led to the problems they witnessed in Scott. The only thing left to do was to see if an alternate cut would work.

Foreman and House worked tirelessly over the next few days, spending hours upon hours in the morgue, working with donated brains. They also worked on the computer generated models of the brain in the med school that are reserved for training for neurosurgeons. Finally, they had figured it out. Both were ecstatic. Foreman fired off a grant proposal to the NIH to begin a limited study of their protocol, and House fired off a proposal for the initial piece to the New England Journal of Medicine. By the end of the day on Monday, the day before the hospital-wide gift exchange, both proposals had been accepted with enthusiasm. The unlikely duo celebrated on the balcony of House's office with a couple of Cuban cigars.

House and Cuddy had barely seen each other over the past several days. She made it a point to stop by his office before she left on Monday evening since she had a bit of a surprise for him.

He was alone in his office when she came in, and he wondered how she could look so beautiful and so hot at then end of the day, when most people looked exhausted and beat. "Your hospital's number one asset did it again," House said confidently, grinning widely.

"I heard," she responded. "That's great House. The clinical trial, the piece in the New England Journal of Medicine, you did good. You'll help us secure more funding. We'll be able to do more. And this will keep the board happy and off your tail for a while."

"I aim to please," he said, getting up and walking around his desk, leaning on it.

Cuddy came up closer to him and said, "I have something for you too. It's, well, I hope you like it." She handed him what looked like a manila file, wrapped in a big, red bow.

"Are you expunging my personnel file?" he asked, half-mockingly.

"You wish," she retorted.

He opened it and quickly realized it was a notice that his medical license had been fully re-instated. He took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts. His journey over the past six months had been ridiculously long and convoluted, and it seemed to be finally over. And she had done that for him, Cuddy had saved him, again.

He met her gaze and said simply, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, House."

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. His eyes went from her to her lips, but he seemed to talk himself out of it, looking again at her eyes. She waited for a moment, then smiled and headed back towards the hall, leaving House to watch her curves as she sashayed out of his office.

_Tomorrow's the day_, House thought. _She might be seeing me as something more than an ass, but still, I might be nothing more than a friend and a hospital asset_. House determined that the hospital's gift exchange would be about him finding out which one it was, once and for all, for better or worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Miracle at 221B****, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part Five**

The next morning PPTH was alive with holiday cheer. Cuddy's gift exchange idea had really brought about a great deal of excitement holiday season. As House limped in the lobby and towards the reception desk he found nurses and clerical staff decked out in holiday gear. It looked like someone had puked green and red all over the place. As he waited for the elevator House noted the flyer announcing Santa's visit at 3 p.m. He would be visiting pediatrics to take pictures with the children, and all of the employees were invited to bring their own kids as well. _Poor dude_, House thought, _he will never get out of here tonight._

As House headed towards his office he realized he was nervous. Today was the day he would finally learn how Cuddy felt about him. Today was going to be the first day of the rest of his life, a life that included either Cuddy's friendship, or Cuddy's twins. He was really hoping for the twins, but she had been very difficult to read since his return from Mayfield. He really didn't know what to expect.

House's fellows joined him in his office shortly after he arrived. "You're early again," Thirteen said, her curiosity piqued.

"And you go both ways," House said, stating the obvious.

She rolled her eyes.

Foreman began, "We don't have patients, so I thought the team could work on helping me with some of the paperwork we need to file with the NIH for the clinical trials."

"Great idea - Daddy has to go take Uncle Jimmy to breakfast, so beep me if you need anything," House said.

House was about to barge into Wilson's office when he held back for a moment and knocked instead. "Come in…" Wilson said, his voice muffled by the closed door.

When Wilson saw it was House who opened his door he almost fell out of his chair out of pure shock. "It's a Christmas miracle," he said, feigning sentimentality, clutching his heart.

"Come on," House said, hurriedly, "my Secret Santa wants to buy us breakfast."

Wilson noticed that House looked somewhat distracted over breakfast. "So, you've been getting to work on time, you've been teaching your class and meeting your office hours, you published an article and clinched a sweet clinical trial for the hospital - what's the encore for today? What are you giving Cuddy as the final gift in the exchange?"

House's eyes were shifted nervously from Wilson, to the croissant on his plate, to the cup of coffee still steaming on the table, then back to Wilson. "If I told you I'd have to kill you," he said, in a light-hearted attempt to calm himself. "Trust me - it's going to be big."

"Big like the time you smashed her toilet with a sledgehammer or big like the time you announced the mayonnaise in the cafeteria was contaminated."

"Big like the time I showed up for my advanced organic chem final totally unprepared and pulled the responses entirely out of my ass and still passed," House said somberly, no longer joking.

"You don't have a gift?" Wilson said, shocked. House didn't answer.

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Wilson added in a disappointed tone.

"Don't give up on me yet, Jimmy, I'm still thinking."

"If you screw this one up, House, I really think you're done, she's done…it's done."

"I know."

It was nearly 3 p.m. when the annoying sound of Hanson went off from House's cell phone. He glanced from his office to the conference room next door, where his team was assembled working on the paperwork for the clinical trial with Foreman. It was Cameron calling from the ER. It was difficult to make out her message because she was talking so fast, but from what House could gather she couldn't call Chase because he was in surgery, and Santa was in the ER having what looked to be a heart attack. She needed someone to get down there quick to take the costume and get to pediatrics or there would be a ton of disappointed children on the second floor.

House looked back at the conference room, ready to send Taub, when he impulsively decided to do it himself. On his way to the ER he thought about this opportunity. The hospital employees were invited to bring their own young children. There was no way that Cuddy would miss this bonding experience with Rachel. This was better than the cheerleading picture. This was real life. _Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus._

By the second hour of his Santa duty, House had seen and taken pictures with what seemed to him like hundreds of snot-nosed, bratty parasites. He did his best not to insult them, and while he managed pretty well with the kids, even the big, fat, diabetic ten-year-old who sat on the wrong leg for the picture - the one without muscle, he didn't manage so well with the parents. The parents were pushy, overbearing and annoying, and they reinforced his theory that there should be some kind of IQ test involved with the right to procreate. He looked around nervously, seeing the room was nearly empty now, and there was no sign of Cuddy. What a damn waste of my time, he thought, as a six-year old cancer patient came up and sat on his leg for a picture.

"Are you the real Santa Claus?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" House responded.

"Can I ask you for something?"

"Well, I don't know where you have been your whole life, kid, but that's kind of the idea. It's what makes this ridiculous holiday bearable. What do you want?"

House was expecting the kid to ask for a Nintendo Wii, or a bike, or even a puppy. These seemed to be at the top of the wish list this year.

"I've been here getting treatment for over a week. I wanna go home for Christmas. Can that be my Christmas present? It's all I want."

House was caught off guard. He thought about the little girl with leukemia who had kissed Chase, and how he had refused to believe she was brave. He looked back at the kid. He had no hair, no lashes even, and based on his pallor, he had undergone a rough round of chemo. In truth, at this moment House did not understand how Wilson can treat these cases on a regular basis. House knew this kid would not be home for Christmas.

"I can give you something for Christmas that is better than that," House said.

The kid's eyes lit up.

"There was this time, not too long ago, when Santa was going through a tough time in the North Pole. Nothing was working out for me. I made a mistake that hurt one of my best Elves, and he left me, and then another one of my favorite Elves died, and I couldn't sleep and was having trouble thinking about my lists of who's been naughty or nice - I was confused. I wanted things to go back to how they were, I wanted to be with Mrs. Claus, but I was too scared to ask her to help me."

"What did you do?" the kid asked, interested in the story.

"I closed my eyes one night, and I imagined she was with me, helping me. I imagined it so clearly that I felt like I had asked her and like she was with me. It was so real to me - and that helped a lot - even though it wasn't real. It was almost like magic."

"And you think I can do that? Pretend to be home even if I'm here?"

"I know you can - I am going to give you this peppermint candy cane - this is just like the one I used that night to have my dream."

"Thanks," the kid said, running towards his parents, "Look Mom, a magic candy cane!"

House exhaled slowly, and as he looked up to see who was next, he saw a familiar toddler coming towards him. Behind her, her mother was desperately trying to keep tears from falling out of her blue-grey eyes. House picked up Rachel, and she immediately started to tug at his beard. She was drooling something ferocious, but it didn't bother House. He was noting, instead, how much she had changed since he last saw her. She was walking pretty steadily, and she was engaged and lively. He could tell she was naturally curious by the way she kept studying him, and House knew this meant she was bright.

After the photographer snapped the pictures, he put Rachel back down on the floor and he stood up to stretch, relieved there was nobody left in line. He locked eyes with Cuddy, and trying to hold herself together she said only, "I'll see you at the party for the exchange." She picked up Rachel and headed towards the hall.

A few minutes later most of the hospital staff gathered in the lobby for the holiday party. Cuddy brought her briefcase and purse as she was tired and ready to go home after the exchange. Everywhere she looked she saw the excited expression of an employee receiving or giving a gift. It truly had been a special holiday season at PPTH. House came up quietly behind her and said, "Do you want your present?"

She turned and looked at him carefully. "That is the point of the exchange."

"Happy Hanukah Cuddy," he said, giving her a small, wrapped box.

"Thanks, House," she answered, as she opened it, her anticipation growing and growing as she ripped the tape off, and then the ribbon and paper. It was a gift certificate for a massage. It is a nice gift, she thought, but not what she had hoped for.

"This is great, House. Thanks," she said, trying to conceal her disappointment. She pulled a wrapped package out of her purse and handed it to House. "Merry Christmas."

He opened it quickly, his long fingers fumbling with the tape. It was a Metallica concert t-shirt. "Thanks Cuddy, it's awesome."

The looked at each other for a moment, then House asked, "Where is the kid?"

"My nanny took her home. My Mom is going to pick her up tonight and she is spending the night there. I am meeting up with them tomorrow. I am going to visit the parents for a few days.

"Nice," he responded.

They started to make their way towards the hospital doors. The party was just beginning in the lobby, but as they stood by the door getting their winter gear on, they were both nervously hiding their disappointment at the way things had worked out. It was snowing outside, just like the night a few days before, just like the night of Rachel's naming ceremony.

"Goodnight, House" she said quickly, starting to push open the door.

"Cuddy, wait."

She turned and looked at him, begging him with her eyes to say the right thing. "That wasn't your gift. That wasn't your real gift. Someone gave it to Thirteen and I stole it from her locker to give to you."

"House!" She was mad, but she surprised herself by actually being relieved that it wasn't a gift he had chosen for her.

"The t-shirt, it's not your real gift either," she confessed. House smiled. "I had it as a safety in case your gift, well, in case-"

He walked over to her and leaned in closely, almost whispering, "Do you want to come to my place for a drink? Your real gift is there."

She blushed as she imagined what House could mean by that. "Sure."

As they walked out together, the oncologist who had been watching them from behind the reception desk, the one wearing the goofy reindeer antlers, couldn't help but smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Miracle at 221B****, A Huddy Christmas Story**

**Part Six**

House knew from the start, of course, what he wanted to give her for Christmas. He wasn't sure, though, that he would have the courage to pull it off. He wanted desperately to be sure of how she felt about him before giving her the gift, but in the end, after they had shared a drink together on his couch, he decided to go for it. He didn't have her yet - he had nothing to lose.

House got up suddenly and limped towards the piano. He picked up a big yellow envelope and handed it to her. "Here," he said, slowly. He looked at the floor, too nervous to watch as she looked inside the envelope.

First she pulled out a little scroll. When she opened it she saw it was an EKG printout. She was confused. She looked at it carefully, saw it had a good rhythm and she looked back up at House. "I don't get it," she said, confused.

"Check the patient," he whispered, keeping his gaze away from her eyes.

On the upper left corner of the printout she read, Patient: Gregory House. She was still confused, unsure of what the EKG printout meant. She didn't think House wanted to talk, or to explain, so she looked inside the big envelope again, hoping for an answer. She pulled out an MRI image this time, it was a brain. She studied it and realized again that it was an image of House's brain.

Her heart started to race. Could this mean what I think it means? "House," she said nervously, trying to keep her voice level.

"There's more," he added, before she could finish her thought. She looked in the envelope again and this time pulled out some sheet music. On the top of the paper she saw the title, _Cuddy's Serenade._

"I started it the night of Rachel's naming ceremony, and I have been working on it ever since."

"Will you play it for me?" she asked, still not believing that any of this was actually really happening.

House headed back to the piano and played the song, the most beautiful music she had ever heard. The notes were melancholic at first, and then the piece took on a spiritual feel, and then, well, the sounds were just sublime. Watching House's fingers glide across the keys was simply a privilege. It was better than watching him work a ddx. Cuddy could tell, she was painfully aware, that this song, this piece, represented them and their journey. House had given her his heart. _Oh my God_, she thought. _He has really given me his heart - the EKG - his mind - the MRI, and now - the song, his soul. _When he was done, he stretched his fingers and put his hands on his lap. He did not look up. He had done it. He had told her how he felt. He had told her twice, if you count Santa's conversation with the cancer kid. The rest was up to her.

When House finally had the courage to look up he saw that Cuddy was fumbling through her purse again. Her tear-stained face was filled with emotion and…_was that fear?_

"Here is your real present, House." It looked like a leather-bound composition notebook - a red and green bow had been taped on top. He took it and looked at her. "It's my journal. I marked the pages I want you to read."

House was moved, but even more than that, he was surprised.

Reading his expression she said, "I have a safe, House. And I'm not telling you where it is hidden, or what the combination is either."

He smiled and looked through the marked pages, reading each sentence, savoring each word, digesting each sentiment, realizing he was finally learning what he most needed to know.

_House kissed me tonight. It was my darkest time - I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest - and there was House, ready to__ comfort me and share my pain. His kiss reminded me of what we used to have. The kiss makes me think we might still have feelings for each other. I know I do…_

_I am such an idiot. He asked me why I care if he's happy. What did I say? Nothing. The strong Dr. Cuddy didn't say a damned word. Why didn't I tell him the truth? I care if he's happy because his happiness matters to me. __He matters to me. He always has. He deserves to feel good and be happy. He deserves to feel loved and to feel companionship. Knowing he is happy makes me happy. I have cared about his happiness since that night we first spent together at Michigan. Why didn't I say something?..._

_This was supposed to be one of the most special nights of my life - I to__ld him not to come - and I spent the night waiting for him to arrive. My damn pride strikes again. Good job Cuddy. Keep pushing him away and you'll never have your chance with him…._

_Oh God - how am I going to survive these next few months without him? What if things change, what if he never comes back to Princeton? What if things are never the same? What have I done? I gave him a prescription for Ambien - I had to have known there was more going on. Why didn't I do something? Why didn't I help him the way he thought I had? I would have dropped everything in a heartbeat for him. Everything. God, now it's too late. Of all of the things that could happen to him, this will be so painful for him. It's not just the detox - that will hurt but I know he can survive that. How is h__e going to deal with losing his licenses? He will get it back, I know he will. But even that won't give him the time he has lost back, or his mojo back. Oh God, how am I going to get up in the morning and get ready for work knowing he won't be there? How? Ever since I audited that endocrinology seminar so that I could meet him…_

_I can't believe it. House rigged the gift exchange. I still may have a chance to make up for all of the opportunities we have missed, that I have missed. I hope I don't screw this up…_

House put the composition book down and he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. They both cried, and held each other even closer. Her head was on his chest, and he could feel the wetness through his shirt. His own face was buried in the crook of her neck, his tears streaming slowly into her hair. There was no space between them, they were one. They shook at the power of their admissions. They stood together in awe at their vulnerability - relieved that the years of suppression and deflection were finally over. They pulled up out of the embrace and looked at each other intensely, their eyes still moist. Their journey towards each other had been so damn long and complicated, yet here they were, together again.

House broke the spell, "I'm still an ass."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to be anything else."

"You know, I'm starting to think you're perfect," he said, kissing her cheek, planting another kiss a bit lower, closer to her jaw.

"I don't know about perfect," she said, leaning up and kissing his stubble, "but I'm a perfectionist who sucks at relationships."

"Do you think we'll screw this up?" he asked sincerely, kissing her neck.

"If anyone can, it's us," she said, pulling him down to her mouth. They kissed softly and pulled up and looked at each other intensely. Their hunger for each other was growing inexplicably, and they both felt like they were about to explode.

"Do you believe in Santa, Dr. Cuddy?" House asked, licking her ear lobe and nuzzling her neck.

"I believe in miracles, House, and I believe in us."

Their mouths found each other, and they moaned softly as their tongues dueled and their hands roamed each other's bodies. House broke the kiss and he nibbled his way down her neck to the top of her breasts. "Merry Christmas girls," he said to her breasts as he caressed the top of her curves slowly with his tongue.

She started to work the buttons on his shirt as his mouth found hers again and they headed towards his bedroom without breaking their embrace.

"I'm reading the rest of your journal, just so you know, after you've ridden the joystick to your second climax of the night." He was sucking on her neck as he pulled off her blouse and worked on her bra, freeing the twins.

"Like hell you are," she answered quickly, biting his lip softly, "and you don't think I'm letting you stop at two, do you?" He pulled her close so her breasts were rubbing against his chest. He ran his hands across her back, licking her neck turning his attention and his mouth to her breasts.

House pushed her gently onto the bed with the weight of his body and warned, "Be careful what you ask for, Cuddy, you just might get it."

**The End**


End file.
